


A Treat (Yourself) Halloween

by chucks_prophet



Series: Countdown to Halloween [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Image, Changing Rooms, Cowboy Dean, Cowboy Kink, Dean in Panties, Gratuitous Smut, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Halloween Smut, Low Self-Esteem, Male Solo, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Other, Panties, Panties Kink, Porn with some plot, Semi-Public Sex, Watersports, Which I Still Can't Believe After 8 Years That That's Canon, mirror kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 08:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: He licks his lips, as if to seal the gap his heart could escape through any second, and glances around him. There's only one other person in the store, aside from the cashier, but she’s not even glancing in his direction. Although, he can’t exactly buy this… can he? It’s not like he can defend himself saying he’s buying it for a friend.Then again, he thinks as his heart kicks on the doors of his lungs, maybe he doesn’t have to buy it when there are changing rooms just around the corner.





	A Treat (Yourself) Halloween

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Victoria's Peecret](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5570767) by [DestielWS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielWS/pseuds/DestielWS). 



Let it be known: Dean hates racy Halloween costumes.

Even though he won't deny getting a little tingle up his candy corn when he passes the racy angel and devil two pieces thinking of that one dream he had when he was asleep in Intro to Physics, before Anna Milton stupidly jabbed him in his side with the stub of her pencil to ask about question 5 on the exam (which is why it's stupid, because all he knew at the time is whatever goes up must come down—proven by him falling asleep), he will not stand for these costumes on Halloween.

Halloween is a season of hauntings and horror and blood and guts _and_ it's the only holiday where it's socially acceptable to dress up, no matter your age (unless you don't have kids, then people are going to be judgmental when you’re twenty-five, but whatever, fuck you Martin Creaser), so why waste it on bedroom roleplay? Sure, BDSM can be scary, but an undead Indiana Jones with a whip is scarier. And way cooler.

That being said, he's currently at the local costume shop, combing through the shelves for high-end gore makeup in the "adult" section. Seeing he's not in Spencer's, he's not sure what criteria has to be met for an item to be stocked here.

Then again, he doesn't see gallons of fake blood and prosthetic intestines harmful to children's eyes, so maybe Dean's not the best person to judge.

That's until, of course, he turns his head to what's truly adult about this section: buttless chaps—however, not just any buttless chaps: buttless chaps with pink, satiny lace attached to the front.

Obviously, it's probably a gag, because no one in their non-erect mind would actually wear this as a costume –especially when considering there are kids at every corner on Halloween night.

But it looks so _good_.

Dean feels two different kinds of heat rising inside him. The first heat is arousal. The second, anger _towards_ the first heat.

It's no question Dean's a fan of all things western after his trip to Frontierland, the amusement park—and everyone _knows_ , thanks to the Facebook check-in feature Dean didn't know existed until all his "friends" started commenting on the laughable status update with things like, “Mary, why did you let your baby grow up to be a cowboy?” And, “Save a horse, ride Dean Winchester”. (And, he’ll have to admit, he thanked Benny afterwards for that one, because that was pretty good.)

But what no one knows, not even the all-seeing, all-knowing Big Brother of social media, is that Dean also has a _huge_ panties kink.

He licks his lips, as if to seal the gap his heart could escape through any second, and glances around him. There's only one other person in the store, aside from the cashier, but she’s not even glancing in his direction. Although, he can’t exactly buy this… can he? It’s not like he can defend himself saying he’s buying it for a friend.

Then again, he thinks as his heart kicks on the doors of his lungs, maybe he doesn’t have to buy it when there are changing rooms just around the corner.

Decision made, Dean glances around one last time before scooping the chaps and ducking into one of them.

His heart’s beating so fast now, he can feel it thrashing against his temples like marching sticks to their respective drums. Before his anxiety can talk him out of it, he hangs the getup on the door and all but yanks his shirt up and over his head, which not only worsens his looming headache, but sends a pinprick of arousal straight to his cock when the fabric runs over his hardening nipples. He’s a little more careful with his jeans, because that’s a muscle he can’t afford to injure.

Once he’s down to his party suit, he takes a deep breath, like he’s about to take a dive in front of everyone at the community pool. He feels so exposed like this, naked in a changing room that’s barely big enough to fit himself, and he almost feels the same amount of eyes on him, casting judgment, measuring his fall should he completely flop into the water.

(Then again, the thrill of someone walking in only makes him harder.)

He shifts his eyes to the getup. The pocket where the lace meets the seams seems a bit… small. Dean’s not one to brag about his girth, either. But when he’s this hard, there’s no way he’s not going to be breaking and buying it.

But the stubborn son of a bitch he is, he’s going to get into this if it takes until closing hours.

With the same breath he forgets to exhale, he reaches for the hanger.

The first leg in is the most torturous. The chaps are a little tight on him, so he has to tug a little to pull the leather up over his hips. That’s when he feels the first brush of the lace against his cock like a subtle reminder of him taking the plunge into the water and also of the little roses etched into the breezy fabric that he wants etched into his _own_ budding flower.

With that thought, he draws the second pant leg a little firmer up and tucks his length in as best he can because, yeah, it’s definitely not big enough to cover Dean.

And even though it’s probably cheap manufacturing, Dean smirks in pride.

His smile flat-lines when he turns to face himself in the mirror, however, to make room for the blush coating his cheeks. For as much shit as Dean talks about everyone and everything on the outside, he’s not nearly as confident with his own shit on the inside. The only time he’s shirtless is when he takes a shower. Even on the occasion he sleeps with someone, it’s never truly an intimate experience, because Dean makes the excuse he’s in a hurry so he doesn’t have to be fully exposed. He’s never really felt attractive enough.

But here, in this changing room, in this getup, fully exposed, he feels _really fucking good._ The chaps hug his legs and thighs really well, giving them definition he never thought he had. Around the crotch area too, his hardness looking more impressive the way the lace is snug enough against the base of his shaft to hold it in place, where Dean’s fingers coast along, and small enough for the leaking upper half to cling to his stomach.

That’s when he realizes the fullness in his bladder. Probably built up from all the anxiety he had.

A small moan escapes him from the warmth of his fingers compared to the cool contrast of the vent blowing over him when he glides up and touches the tip of his cock. A little piss escapes there—something he’s never let happen naturally before, but feels great spilling over his fingers and through the lace, all the way to his base, warming him up even more.

With that, he moans even louder, but stops his ministrations before he can completely lose it, because what would he be doing if he didn’t admire the prime feature of the chaps?

Dean turns for a side profile to see his bare ass hanging out. Before he can resist, he takes his left hand, watching himself in the mirror as he goes, reaches around and teases his hole.

Another moan. Then another. It’s incredible because he’s barely touching himself, and the panties give him nice pressure. He knows he’s close because he feels like a Jack o’ Lantern, lit up from the inside out, and all it takes is two fingers before he’s forced to his knees, pissing hard and coming faster than Christmas in retail stores.

 

 

Let it be known: Dean hates racy Halloween costumes.

Even though he won't deny getting a little tingle up his candy corn when he sees those same chaps hanging in his closet the day after.


End file.
